


hills full of gold

by theworldabouttodawn



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, injury fic, texts from swoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldabouttodawn/pseuds/theworldabouttodawn
Summary: kent gets a really bad check. alyosha worries.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title bastardised from of monsters and men's "empire"

They’re on the ice at the same time that night in different arenas, the Falconers in the middle of a gruelling western swing in Los Angeles and the Aces playing at home. Before he slips out of his game-day suit, Alyosha calls Kent quickly, no more than a “good luck” and “я тебя люблю” and promises of spending time together at the end of this roadie that are honestly the only thing keeping him going through this mess of a week.

“I’ll get a hatty for you,” Kent promises him.

“Get hatty for yourself and team,” Alyosha responds with a smile, and then it’s time for some two-touch and changing into hockey gear.

It’s a rough game, full of unnecessary penalties (fuck “too many men” in particular) and goals that should’ve been easily stopped, but they manage to eke out a 3-2 overtime win over the Kings. The locker room is buzzing afterwards, everyone exhausted but still somehow buzzed enough for Gasher to suggest they head out for a few drinks. Kid’s fresh off his rookie year, though, so Alyosha can excuse him for that.

He turns his phone on, intending to just check the result of Kent’s game, but the moment it boots up it won’t stop buzzing, frantic and devastating. _People were probably just stressed out watching our overtime_ , Alyosha tells himself, but even as he says the words in his head he knows they’re not true. Something – something bad has happened, and – 

**NHL** 50m ago  
Aces’ captain Kent Parson stretchered off the ice at  
home after check into the boards by Bruins’ Zdeno Chara

He’s scrolled almost all the way to the bottom of his notifications without even realising it, but now he reads all the texts he’s been getting from Swoops, who has taken over the mantle of “Aces Team Dad” after being not only placed on IR due to a badly sprained ankle but also trusted with the secret of Alyosha and Kent’s relationship. The earliest ones are happy, excited shit like “YOOOOO PARSER IS ON A ROLL” and “TWO GOALS AND AN ASSIST YEAHHHHH GO FOR A GORDIE HOWE”, but then they get much more worried, “parse is down and not getting up” and “holy shit he can’t skate off” before tapering into something slightly more informative and reassuring. 

“they’re checking him out rn but so far it looks like a few broken ribs and maybe a strained calf muscle?” 

“ribs bound, leg still getting figured out.”

“he ain’t getting back on the ice tonight that’s for sure”

“r.i.p. both the gordie howe and the actual hatty”

But then: “fuck fuck fuck it’s not a strain he hit the boards hard enough to shatter his fucking kneecap god fucking dammit fuck chara” and two missed calls and Alyosha is taking off his gear with one hand while stabbing at his phone with the other.

“Everything okay there, Tater?” Marty asks lowly, trying not to catch the attention of any of the other guys.

“Yeah – yeah. Is fine. Everything fine,” Alyosha mutters, switching his screen off when Swoops doesn’t pick up and shucking the rest of his gear.

Across the room, Noose throws a balled-up sock at him. “You coming tonight with us or what?”

Alyosha shakes his head. “Tired,” he says. “Gonna get an early night.”

“Tired already? You’re getting old,” Poots chirps, swinging a towel around his neck and heading for the showers.

“Old and tired of your shit,” Alyosha shoots back on autopilot, mind still swirling with worry and unnecessary speculation about Kent’s condition.

Gasher shakes his head. “Weak,” he says, drawing the word out. 

The locker room chatter continues around him, but English isn’t his best suit at the happiest of times, and right now all he wants to do is get back to the hotel and call Swoops. Well, calling Kent would be better, but he doesn’t know if Kent has access to his phone right now. 

Okay, well, obviously the _best_ course of action would be to hop on a plane to Las Vegas right now, storm into whatever hospital they took Kent to, and demand to see his boyfriend. Alyosha contemplates doing that for one blissful moment before remembering the myriad of reasons why he can’t. So he settles for texting Swoops back, a quick “keep me updated please” and firmly telling himself that he will not unduly worry when he can’t do anything, a resolution that he breaks immediately when he opens up the NHL app and constantly refreshes the Aces page, waiting for any sort of news on Kent’s status.

By the time Swoops finally manages to call him back, he’s already undressed and in bed, Jack skyping Bitty on the other side of the room. “Any news?” he manages as soon as he picks up.

Swoops sounds drained when he responds, “He’s sleeping now, but I don’t want to be the person who has to deal with him off painkillers. Doctors don’t think he’ll need surgery, which is a plus.”

“How long he out?” Alyosha asks.

“Maybe eight weeks?” Swoops says hesitantly. “That’s if he actually follows directions during his recovery and doesn’t try to jump on the ice before he’s supposed to.”

“He never listen,” Alyosha points out, sighing. 

“Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

*

The Falconers have another game to go before they even make it to Las Vegas, so Alyosha tries his best to channel all of his worry into playing the hardest game he possibly can against San Jose, probably taking way too many penalty minutes and making Ballsy give him an earful when he comes back to the bench. He just sits there and takes it, however, too caught up in worrying about Kent to even try to defend himself against his (righteously) angry captain.

They win this game handily this time around, despite the ridiculous amount of time he spends in the sin bin, so he can’t feel too terrible about it. Snowy settles in next to him on the bus and wastes no time in asking, “What’s eating at you today?”

Alyosha shakes his head. “Nothing you worry about.”

“Tater, c’mon, you’ve been in a mood since you rolled out of bed this morning. What’s going on?” Snowy presses, unwilling to drop the matter.

“Nothing!” Alyosha insists, turning grumpily to face the window and pull his headphones out. “Go away, nosy goalie.”

Said nosy goalie sighs audibly and pointedly does not go away. “You can talk to me, y’know? I’m your friend, and I don’t go around telling other people’s secrets.”

“I know,” Alyosha sighs after a while. “Just – don’t want to talk, okay? Want to sleep.” And Snowy doesn’t buy it, not for a second, but acquiesces and puts his own headphones on anyways, finally leaving him alone. For a fleeting moment, Alyosha contemplates blurting out the entire story, but ultimately realizes the folly behind this compulsion, leaving him lonely and wanting. 

He misses Kent.

*

When they land at McCarran the next day, Alyosha’s first instinct is to call Swoops and ask if the hospital is letting Kent have visitors at the moment. But he’s still got to drop his stuff off at the hotel, first, and anyways it might be bad form to be heard speaking to the enemy’s goalie (even if it’s only by his teammates and said goalie is on IR). 

They’re ahead of schedule, however, so he definitely has time to go visit Kent after everyone gets settled in and leaves to go explore the city and before his mandatory nap. Said boyfriend texts him as soon as he tosses his bag on the bed, sending him the address of the hospital, his room number, and a request for him to “go get kit from my apartment and bring her here i miss her” that Alyosha is definitely not going to fulfil. He’s got little enough time as it is. 

Qualitatively, Alyosha knows his boyfriend is small. He has fond memories of picking Kent up with one hand. But when he walks into the hotel room, already stinking of Lysol and disinfectant, he’s struck by how tiny and fragile Kent seems, swathed in bright white sheets and almost buried among the pillows. Alyosha just wants to pull him to his chest and protect him from anything and everything life might throw at him. 

But obviously, he can’t, so he settles for all but crushing Kent in a huge bear hug (disregarding both the “get _off_ , ‘Yosha, I can’t breathe” and the “alright, fine, I missed you too”) and kissing him fiercely once the attending nurse leaves the room. “You most dumb,” he says when he pulls back. “Bust knee, can’t be on ice when we wreck your team.”

“Hey, I didn’t _try_ to get myself injured,” Kent protests when he finally has room to breathe. “You think I didn’t want to whip your sorry ass tonight?”

“Most stupid,” Alyosha repeats matter-of-factly, pulling a chair up next to the bed. “Letting Chara check you, you think you so big that he not hurt you? Be more careful, Kenechka.”

Kent flushes at the pet name, still new enough to be unfamiliar and exciting, but does his best to hide his reaction. “Z’s a good guy, he’s just _huge_ , okay? It’s kind of hard to avoid a hit from him.”

Alyosha heaves a long-suffering sigh. “I know that,” he admits. Then, voice softening, he adds, “Not like see you get hurt, okay? Want you healthy and happy always.”

Not knowing how to respond, Kent settles for squeezing his hand, finally saying, “Thanks, ‘Yosha. I don’t like it when you get hurt either.”

They stay like that for a while, holding hands and chatting, waiting for the day they can be together like this in public without anyone batting an eyelash. It’s enough for them now, though, even when Alyosha’s alarm goes off and he has to return to the hotel, stealing a kiss before he leaves and promising that he’ll come back as soon as the game is over.

He does, too, riding on the high of a 3-1 win that Kent swears up and down is only because he wasn’t on the ice (to distract Alyosha, among other things). Alyosha relents with bad grace when he’s pulled onto the bed and informed that Kent had obtained permission for him to stay the night from the nurses he had already charmed the hell out of (never mind the fact that he’s Kent Parson in Las Vegas), thankful that he had the foresight to change into a t-shirt and sweats back at the hotel.

“Stay here with me,” Kent murmurs, happily snuggling into his boyfriend’s chest.

Smiling fondly despite himself, Alyosha kisses the top of Kent’s head, running his fingers through the soft golden hair. “Of course, мо́й любовь, Kenechka. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> i just have so many feelings and thoughts about parse and tater ok. if you do too, hit me up on [tumblr](http://www.sammytwilson.tumblr.com)


End file.
